Twins
by cheesyzebras
Summary: Hermione gets her Hogwarts letter, but can't decide what to do. Rowan's gone now, and it's impossible for her to cope on her own. Hugs from a certain Professor can't hurt though….
1. Chapter 1

"Hermione, come to dinner" my mother calls from the kitchen. "Just a minute" I shout back, without thinking. I'm sitting in my room, turning the thick envelope addressed to me in acid green ink, over in my hands. The wax seal of a badger, lion, serpent and bird surrounding the large letter H is rough against my fingertips. I sigh, to open or not to open, the decision has haunted me for the last week.

So as not to annoy my parents, I join them at the dinner table ready for yet another evenings worth of them discussing the dentists surgery and their forgetful yet endearing secretary, Mrs Patterson. When Rowan was around we would roll our eyes at each other then stifle the uncontrollable giggles that followed. It made the whole rigmarole bearable, even enjoyable. I miss him so hard it hurts.

Rowan, my brother, my ex-brother now, I guess. He had bright coppery red hair, as soon as people saw him they singled him out as a joker, a trickster and more often than not a troublemaker. His brown eyes danced and sparkled constantly with emotion. His laugh was so contagious, it may well have been the plague. We did everything together, we were twins after all. We went to school with matching pencil cases, bags, rulers and notebooks. We shared a bedroom and often stayed up late talking and giggling about our secrets. I remember once we were on our annual family camping trip in the Forest of Dean. The dullest place in England really, or so I thought.

Rowan and I were sharing a tent, as always. Then he started telling me all these ghost stories about the ghosts of the forests, lost campers and hikers who had never returned to their families. I was extremely gullible and hung on to his every word. After he had scared me silly, he announced that he was going to sleep. I was tired too and agreed. I woke during the night to footsteps, not the practical, heavy hiking boot clad feet of our parents but more like shuffling with intermittent dragging. " The ghosts" I screamed and threw off my sleeping bag. In a flash I was out of the tent. The darkness enveloped me and I couldn't see a thing. I was sobbing by this point, sure the ghosts had come to get me. Then "BOO!" I nearly jumped out of my skin. I heard the laugh that I knew so well. "tricked you, tricked you" came Rowan's taunting call. I was so mad that I chased him round the tent until I had pinned him onto the ground, giggling now at my own stupidity. Our parents, wondering what the commotion was came out of their tent. Realizing there was no point forcing us back to bed, we all sat up and had a cup of cocoa, sugar free of course.

Rowan and I didn't have a special twin connection or anything. We couldn't read each other's minds. We didn't speak a special twin language. We often fought over stupid stuff like who could do a handstand for longer (me) or who had the biggest feet (him). We loved each other to bits. I punched a girl in the face who called him 'Carrot-head', he slapped someone because they said my front teeth looked like they belong on a rabbit (they do).

We protected each other from the minor dangers in life. We looked out for each other. School-yard bullies, dull teachers and strict parents were our enemies and we were the superheroes.

I know I would make a decision about the letter with the mysterious crest in a heartbeat if Rowan were here, but I have to face it, he's not.

"Hermione, Hermione" I'm shaken back to reality by my mother's voice. "Did you hear what I said?" I shrug and concentrate on pushing my casserole around the plate trying to make it look like I've eaten more than I have. " I said, we ought to take a look at some of those secondary schools, for next year. You're a very clever girl maybe you get into one of those private schools in London…"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N – Ok this is chapter 2 of Twins. Thank you to cosmoGirl666 for following the story. Also I have to apologize that I called Rowan - Kit in chapter one. Where it says Kit it's meant to be Rowan. Sorry for any confusion. I can post a rewrite if you guys want. Please read and review, means so much to me!**

That night I lie in bed, thinking about Harthridge's Girls Acadamy and Aldenham School for Young Ladies. My thoughts are not with green plaid skirts or navy pleated ones. I wasn't thinking of the wide range of subjects at Aldenham or the excellent pupil to teacher ratio at Harthridge's. I couldn't see myself settling down in one of those schools. They were too grand, too prestigious, too posh. I sighed, Rowan would have some witty remark to make about all the schools. 6 months ago I would have done the same. It's hard to imagine the conversation that would have taken place with my mother if I was still the same person:

"You're a very clever girl, you could get into one of those private schools in London"

"Mum! Stop it… I'm going to Greenvale Comp same as everyone else."

"Well Eloise's mother said she was going to a boarding school..."

"Eloise is a stuck up bitch and I don't want anything to do with her"

"I'm not saying that dear, it's just you've got so much potential…and now that you've stopped having those funny turns, well…"

"Funny turns?! Mum, you know that those 'funny turns' were me, all me, I was in control."

"Do not speak to me like that Hermione! You were hallucinating, imagining things…I still think we should have gone to see that child psychiatrist"

"Is that why you want to pack me off to boarding school? Because you think I'm crazy or dangerous?"

"Of course not Hermione don't be ridiculous"

"I'm being ridiculous? You're the one who's sending me away….maybe I like being different…have you ever thought about that?"

"Hermione what you did… it – it just – it wasn't normal."

"Mum, Rowan and I have been doing stuff like that years"

"Well it's time it was put to a stop, I'm not having it in MY HOUSE. It's not right…"

Not pretty I know, but better than what actual happened – I just shrugged and pretended I couldn't care less what school I go to. I look up at the ceiling, adorned with cracks and marks, from Rowan's mischief. If I concentrate very hard, and I can make the cracks grow, or shrink, curve into a wide grin or slide like a snake across the ceiling.

Rowan and I were different, we could control things, if we wanted to. Even when were really little, I remember playing in the garden and Rowan could make our toys fly around us in circles. We thought we had powers, special powers that we knew had to be kept a secret. When Mum and Dad came out into the garden to check on us, all the toys floated back down to earth and we pretended nothing had happened.

Sometimes though it was harder to keep it a secret. Like on Sports Day, Rowan and I won medal after medal because it was easy for us to keep an egg on a spoon when we could control the egg. It was easy to leap over the hurdles as if they weren't there at all. It was easy to run with our legs tied together. Mum and Dad told us to stop, they said we had to 'play fair' and 'give other kids a chance'. Rowan and I hung our heads, but that night in our bedroom we made the curtains open and close crazily, we made the lamps spin like tops and we made our drawers bang open and closed loudly. We didn't want to stop using our powers, we liked the strange things that happened around us.

The memories make me smile, but I can't shake the feeling, that the letter, the letter addressed to me in acid-green handwriting, the letter that one morning was sitting on my window ledge, completely dry even though it was pouring rain outside, is something important. Something Rowan would have firmly approved of.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N- This is chapter 3! Hope your enjoying Twins. Please read, review, favorite and follow! Thanks to everyone who has followed already!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

I battle my insomnia all night long. I hardly ever sleep, I am too afraid of what I'll see when I close my eyes. I read book after book after book. Science-fiction, romance, mystery it doesn't matter, I just absorb it all, forgetting my own troubles for a brief moment. I read travel guides, fact books and cookery books. Nobody knows but me, and perhaps the librarian, whom I think has gotten suspicious of my daily visits.

I wake at dawn the next morning, my face pressed into a copy of _'Greece: The Trip of a Lifetime' _and tiptoe down the stairs. It's too late to try and go back to sleep, yet too early for my parents to be up. In my hand I carry the letter, I think I'm brave enough to open it now – I've dealt with enough bad news and false hope this year, it could hardly make me feel any worse….

I slide a knife across the top, opening it neatly. Rowan would have torn it open right away, the moment he found it on the window ledge… But I'm not Rowan. I'm weaker, I'm afraid. Slowly, carefully, my hands trembling, I slide the thick parchment out of the envelope.

It reads as follows:

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF**_

_**WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress _

At first I'm stunned, I read it again and again and yet again. I think it's a joke, a trick, a prank, it's exactly the kind of thing that Rowan would do. I turn, half expecting him to pop out from behind the sofa. With an ache in my heart I am forced to remember that Rowan isn't here, not anymore. No one else would do something like this to me. My parents are too wrapped up in their own grief and the dental surgery. My friends I've stopped talking to, their silly chatter completely irrelevant to me now. I don't know our neighbours, the serious old couple that live to the left or the Polish family that live to the right. I rack my brains but can't think of anyone else.

It can't be real a school, for witchcraft and wizardry? It just can't. Can it? Words like _Mugwump _and_ Merlin_…they're not in the dictionary. Magic isn't real, it's just made up, simply fairytales and myths. There are no sorcerers, witches or wizards. Hogwarts? There can't be a school for witchcraft or wizardry. What do they mean anyway "_we await your owl"_.

"I knew you'd open it eventually" says a soft voice. I scream and drop the envelope. Standing in my kitchen, is what I can only describe as a wizard. He has an impossibly long silver beard, which is tucked into a large leather belt. His emerald robes are embroidered with moons and stars. His blue eyes twinkle kindly behind half-moon shaped spectacles. Those eyes…they are staring at me with such intent, it's almost as if he's x-raying me, staring straight into my mind, my soul. He's old, so impossibly old, he could be Santa Clause or perhaps Father Time. His face is so wizened and wrinkled it's almost like elephant skin.

He speaks gently "I'm so sorry for your loss Ms. Granger, your brother was a fine young man, such a shame, such a terrible shame..."

"How do…how do you know my name? How did you find out about Rowan…I think I'll just….MU-" Then all of a sudden it's as if a pillow has been clamped over my mouth. I can't speak, I can't scream.

"Now, now we don't want to alarm your mother". His voice is soft and calming. "I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You, Ms. Granger are indeed a witch."

"But Sir," I protest, "magic and all that is made up, it's nonsense…."

He nods and rests his head on his hands, then "I think I'll make a mug of tea, I've always enjoyed the Muggle drink"

He pulls out what looks like a polished stick from his robes and flicks it through the air. The kettle rises up and fills itself. The teacup and saucer spin themselves through the air into his outstretched hand. The tea caddy unscrews its lid and a teabag flies into the cup.

I stand, watching carefully, my mouth settled in a perfect O shape.

"I'll think you'll find magic is quite real, my dear" He says, "and you are most certainly a witch. How else do you explain your, as you and your brother put it, powers?"

I shrug, but inside of me, it's as if a light as been switched on where darkness was before, illuminating my body, for the first time since Rowan, I feel alive.

"At Hogwarts, you will be trained in the art of witchcraft, you will learn to control your talent and perform magic. You belong the world of magic, Ms. Granger. Now I shall tell your parents the good news and meanwhile you can enjoy your breakfast."

"Their bedroom is the second on the left upstairs." I say faintly.

"I know Ms. Granger, I know" he says, winking as he disappears.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – Chapter 4! A bit short sorry. Just one review would make my day (hint, hint.) Thank you thunderrose2009 for favouriting Twins. Also does anyone know how to check the views? If you do just leave the answer in the comments!**

So, I'm a witch? That was a surprising turn of events. Professor Dumbledore explained everything to Mum and Dad, they were somewhat taken aback by his unusual appearance but accepted the truth in the end. That I am a witch and on September 1st I will be catching the Hogwarts express from platform 9 3/4 (you have to walk between the barrier between platform 9 and 10, or so Professor Dumbledore said. I pinch my arm, hard, but am not jerked awake from a crazy dream. "It's real!" I whisper into my pillow.

Mum and Dad took it pretty well, considering. We all sat in the sitting room, Dumbledore drinking his tea. At first they spluttered with laughter, saying that it was preposterous, "OUR Hermione can't be a witch" they said.

Then they remembered, the countless medals at Sports Day, they remembered the funny noises coming from mine and Rowan's room and they remembered the times they had seen us, playing in the garden, jumping impossibly high on the trampoline, sending our toys spinning around us.

They clasped my hands in theirs and we held onto each other, lifelines in this tide of strange happenings.

" Is this what you want Hermione?"

I thought long and hard…what I really wanted was my twin brother back…but I couldn't have that… it was impossible. The words of the letter came to mind. _You have a place at Hogwarts. _That's what I wanted wasn't it? – a place where I could belong.

"Yes, I answered firmly, looking my parents in the eye, this is what I want".

"Are you sure Hermione?" this time it was Professor Dumbledore speaking, doubting me, "No one is forcing you into this."

"Of course I'm sure" I heard my own voice saying "I said so didn't I?"

I curl up in my duvet though, my heart pounding with nerves I couldn't explain or give reason for. Rowan would know, he would know what was right to do. I screw up my eyes but still a few tears leak out. I try to picture him, longing to see him again, just for a few minutes, seconds even.

To distract myself, I pull out the list of books and equipment. I have no idea where to get this stuff: work robes and dragon hide gloves? Even the books, I've never heard of any of the authors or the titles. I am also required to get a pewter cauldron and a telescope. Shops in London don't have that kind of stuff. Most curious of all I must get a magic wand. A wand - of all things! I've seen magicians before of course, have watched unamused because Rowan and I could do so much better at home. They had plastic blank wands, with white tips. But Professor Dumbledore – he had a long slender wand, beautifully polished, just looking at it, you could feel a sort of magic pulsating from it. I wanted to touch it, to lift it up and see what power it held.

With this swirl of confused thoughts, I slowly drift off to sleep, but before I drift off, I think – I didn't have to read….


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N – Here it is, Chapter 5 - because the last one was so short! Reviews please, still waiting Thank to all who have followed! Love you guys 3**

The following Thursday an exquisite tawny owl flies through the open window and lands on the kitchen table, promptly knocking over the cereal box. It sticks out its leg and ruffles it's feathers in a self-important fashion. Mum is under the table hiding – she hates birds. Dad is cautiously backing off, wielding a lamp as a makeshift weapon. On its leg is a curled up piece of parchment secured with a silver ribbon. The owl coos and opens its beak expectantly. I peel off the note but the owl stays at the table. I see it eyeing up the cereal and understand. I hold out Mum's breakfast of granola and the owl dives straight in, gobbling it down. I take a step back and take in the hilarious scene. I just can't help myself, I burst into floods of laughter. Tears run down my face as the uncontrollable giggles rack my body. My parents probably think I'm crazy – who knows maybe I am? Still I keep laughing until my stomach feels as if it will burst.

When I have composed myself I open the note delivered by the granola-loving owl. It reads:

_-Mr. and Mrs. Granger,_

_Hermione will need to purchase her school supplies in Diagon Alley (a wizard shopping street) with wizard money. As Muggles (non-wizards) you will not be able to travel to Diagon Alley with her. I myself shall collect her tomorrow at 1:00 and we shall purchase the necessary equipment._

_Kindest regards,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

At last - the answer to my questions! I find myself looking forward to the moment with pleasure. Mum, Rowan and I used to go shopping in London a lot. Those days were the worst. Mum used to drag us to all the department stores to buy clothes. We tried on outfit after outfit – Mum always putting me in frilly dresses and rowan in itchy sweaters. As we stumbled from the fitting room, labels digging into our necks, Mum would declare us "adorable" or "super-cute". Rowan and I would scowl together but Mum ignored our protests. She flashed her credit card at the counter – buying hideous outfit after outfit for the both of us. Those skirts and dresses that always went unworn now lie at the bottom of my wardrobe a reminder of the days I would give anything to have back. The London trips weren't all bad. We got to go to a coffee shop after the clothes disaster and were allowed a bun or pastry – a rare treat. Being dentists my parents were very sugar conscious. But all that was forgotten in the coffee shop. Dad often met us there and we would sit together savouring the sweetness that we were never allowed to enjoy. Mum and Dad forgot about the surgery, they forgot about how bad sugar was for your teeth they just focused on us.

It's hard to imagine Professor Dumbledore in a Starbucks or Costa. I can't picture him slurping coffee or nibbling at a donut. I wonder what he will wear – surely not his bright green robes? _Diagon Alley, Diagon Alley _the name of this magical street floated in and out of my thoughts all day.

That Thursday was one of the longest days, the time just dragged itself on and one. I would look at the clock – thinking hours had passed then turn my head crestfallen, as it had only been 10 minutes.

I am all too used to time dragging like this – it reminds me of those awful, awful days I spent sitting on that hard, green hospital chair decorated with graffiti. Waiting, waiting for the news I was so desperate to hear, yet dreaded what might be said. I remember looking at the walls, the various leaflets and posters. _Are you protected against mumps? CPR training next Tuesday – BE THERE! Remember to wash your hands on entry and exit of the ward._

Endless trolleys and uniforms swept past me, squeaking on the lino floor. I watched everything and everyone – anything to prevent me from giving into the monsters that lurked in my brain – the monsters that wanted me to think the worst. Trainee nurses wore purple scrubs. Canteen workers brought leftover food to the consultants. Ambulances arrived into Terminal 6. Vending machines were filled every Tuesday. The worst cries when someone died came from the mothers. Every doctor had a pink I-D badge.

I hit my forehead forcefully as that can stop the torrent of memories coming back. I won't let it, I won't let it, I wont let it. Suddenly I can't sit still any longer, I have to get up, I have to do something. I take out a recipe book and flick to the almost unused baking section. My fingers stop on the page for gingerbread. Gingerbread, gingerbread, ginger, ginger hair, gingerbread, ginger hair, ginger, gingerbread, ginger hair, "Rowan..." I choke out. The pain is so physical, it's crushing me down. I turn to the next page – Chocolate-chip cookies. "Perfect" I think weakly. I throw myself into the baking – weighing out flour, sugar, butter, chocolate and vanilla. My mother frowns when she sees all the sugar but doesn't stop me. I knead, I mix, I pour, I shape and roll until I have 24 roughly shaped cookies in front of me. The oven is rumbling, but it's a familiar sound, a comforting sound. The cookies go in at 11.04. I'm stuck here until 11.24. More waiting….

I watch the cookies as they go from raw to golden brown. They morph into perfect round circles – crisp on the outside but soft and crumbly on the inside. Like me, I guess. I'm prickly. I fend off those who try to talk to me. All they'll say is "I'm sorry". No they aren't. Why would they be sorry? Sorry because some boy they didn't know died. "I don't believe you" I always feel like taunting back, but I don't, I bite my tongue and nod, accepting their pitiful apologies. Once you get inside me though, you can hurt me bad, very, very easily. I'll just crumble, crumble away to nothing….one of these days, it could happen anytime.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N – Chapter 6! Just one review please?**

**How long do you guys think I should continue is story on for, I think 4 or 5 more chapters? Follow as well! Thanks to those who already have!**

I spend the night nibbling at the cookies while reading '_A Complete Guide to British Water Birds' _and_ 'Science Today!'. _I wake up covered in crumbs and with a pain in my neck from lying on the book all night long. I'm hot, sweaty and gross, so decide to take a shower. I don't know for how long I stand under the hot spray, but it's long enough for my pale skin to turn pink and shrivel up.

I spend the day pacing about the house, stalking up and down the hall, answering with nods or grunts if Mum or Dad tries to talk to me. When 1 o'clock finally arrives, I hear a distant pop and from nowhere Professor Dumbledore is outside my house. Today he is wearing luxurious blue robes embroidered with red flowers. Still he has the same half moon spectacles and leather belt. He must be roasting I think, it is after all July.

"Good day, Ms. Granger" he says as he answers the door "I trust you got my owl". He politely declines offers of tea and coffee from my parents and the two of us set off.

"We shall be travelling by Muggle transport, Ms. Granger, side-along apparition is not for the faint-hearted. And your house doesn't have a fireplace, so we couldn't travel by Floo." I don't understand what he means but nod intelligently all the same. Dumbledore navigates the ticket booth and barrier with confidence, as if he travels by train everyday, even though witches and wizards probably travel by broomstick or something of the sort. "Now you must have a lot of questions for me, Hermione" he says kindly. Well I did, last night my brain was going at 100 miles per hour but now my mind has gone blank… "Um, err, um" I begin awkwardly and mumble something even I don't catch. "Well" he says "your thoughts are probably a little preoccupied at the moment, so I will explain the basics. Hogwarts was founded hundreds and hundreds of years ago, to educate the young wizards and witches of Britain. There are four houses, named after the four founders of Hogwarts – Hufflepuff, Gyrffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. While you are at Hogwarts, your house is your family. You eat together, sleep together and learn together. Points are awarded to each house for knowledge and for house loyalty, whichever house has the most points, wins the House Cup at the end of the year. First years are sorted into the houses by the Sorting Hat. Each house values different things. Hufflepuff values loyalty and hard work. Gyrffindor values chivalry and courage. Ravenclaw values knowledge and logic. Slytherin values cunning and ambition. The Sorting Hat will look inside your head and see where you belong."

"Sorry, did you…did you say - see inside head?" I interrupt. I shudder to think of someone looking into my brain and seeing how messed up it is inside. They could find out my secrets, my memories, my fears. "It…it can't do that… I won't allow it".

"I'm afraid it's the only way Ms. Granger" Dumbledore replies a little wistfully. He gazes into my eyes and I'm sure he sees the panic that I'm feeling. "The only way….

We sit in silence as the train trundles on, some people staring at Dumbledore's curious outfit. I feel like telling them to go away. I've had enough of being stared at for a lifetime.

We get off at Charing Cross Road, but as I look around, I can't see a shop that would stock anything on the list, that I have carefully folded in my pocket. Then I see it – the narrow black building, it looks like a run-down old shop front. It is wedged between a burger joint and a bookshop, but the passers-by walk past and look through it, as if its not there. They can't see it, I realize. The Leaky Cauldron, the sign reads. Dumbledore nods toward me, and he gestures for me to go first. Inside it's one of the most extraordinary things I've ever seen. Creatures like goblins and hags, that I've only seen in books lurk in corners sipping at brightly colored drinks, one man is reading a newspaper and the pictures are MOVING, another is controlling the spoon that is stirring his coffee with just a pointed fingertip. The barman is pouring drinks and clearing tables with just simple flicks of his wand. The bar is packed, and the noise is unbelievable. Finally, after a few minutes of me shamelessly staring, Dumbledore leads me through another door. We come face to face with a solid brick wall. I frown, wondering if we have to climb it. Dumbledore simply pulls out his wand and muttering under his breath he taps the bricks, in an obvious pattern. The bricks then begin to fold over on one another, squishing themselves up, until a doorway has formed. "As if by magic" I think then I remember – it _is _magic.

As the bricks clear, the magical street is revealed. It is a hustle and bustle of people, all clad in robes not unlike Dumbledore's. Sellers yell from their stalls:_ "Pickled dragon eyes only 6 sickles a kilo!" "Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans only a knut for a bag. "Flourish and Blotts Special Back to School Offers". _The sheer noise is enough to astound me – what makes matters worse is that I don't understand half of what they're saying. I feel out of place in my Primark jeans and t-shirt. Very out of place. It's overwhelming. Every head turns as I walk down the cobblestoned street, still in awe of the magic around me. The shops and stalls boast products I've never heard of, other things are floating around unattended, people are exchanging huge golden coins as big as my fist. Potions puff out multi-colored smoke. A shriveled old woman carries a steaming tray of cauldron-shaped cakes. Groups of young giggling girls flutter past trying to attract the attention of older boys. Young children are dragging their parents over to look at toys in a shop window. "We should go to Gringotts first." says Dumbledore. I nod, anything to get away from the craziness of the street.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N – YAY! I got a review…and I replied to it! Thank you so much arabellagrace and everyone else who followed! This is Chapter 7…I think I'll do up to the Hogwarts Express? Tell me what you think in the reviews! **

It turns out Gringotts is the wizarding bank. It's beautiful, a huge building, made of snow-white marble. We enter through a set of pure bronze doors. There is a funny looking creature at the entrance dressed in a scarlet uniform. Inside there is a vast marble hall. There are more of the funny looking creatures who are examining coins under special instruments. Dumbledore strides up to one of the desks.

"We would like to enter the Hogwarts Muggle-born trust fund."

"Certainly" replies the creature and it gives me a look of disgust. "A Muggle-born…how…lovely" it says, its voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you have the key?"

"_Accio_ key" Dumbledore mutters and the key comes zooming towards us from nowhere.

By this time, I've seen so many strange things on the street that a flying key doesn't astound me, like it would have 20 minutes ago.

"Very well" the creature snaps. "Come!"

We go through one of the infinite number of doors in the Hall. The room we enter is like a cave. The walls are made of solid rock, and lit only by flaming torches. I can hear whirring noises, but can't work out what they are. Then I see a little mine cart, travelling on a rickety track above us. It travels at breakneck speed, driven by yet another strange creature.

"I'm glad we don't have to travel by cart today" Dumbledore whispers to me, "they always make me feel queasy. I nod in agreement.

"Here we are," announces the creature "now hurry up, I haven't got all day". I'm beginning to feel claustrophobic in this dark cave. I think of all the tones solid rock above me, and shudder, I want to get out of here as well.

"Wizard currency is very simple, Hermione" says Dumbledore as we enter a vault that the creature has unlocked with the key. "This is a Galleon" he says as he holds up a large golden coin. "One Galleon equals 17 Sickles, this silver coin, and I believe 5 Muggle pounds. This is a Knut" he says, and holds up a bronze coin, "1 Sickle equals 29 Knuts."

"That's what people were using in Diagon Alley" I exclaim, and then clamp my hand over my mouth, as I realize I've made the most obvious statement in the world.

"Yes, Ms. Granger" Dumbledore says kindly. "Now you will need about 20 Galleons, just to get you started."

Leaving Gringotts I feel lighter, maybe it's just being out of that claustrophobic mine but I think I'm starting to understand more about this strange world I've been unwillingly thrown into.

The first shop we enter is _Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. Dumbledore directs me to the Hogwarts uniform section and walk off. I wish he wouldn't. I see him eyeing up some golden robes patterned with green spots. I sigh loudly, wondering what to do now. I pick at different uniforms, not sure what my robe size is, so not knowing what ones to pick up. "Why, hello dearie" the greeting startles me from my daydream. "We must get you all measured up!" This must be Madame Malkin. Her pretty dark hair streaked with grey is wound in a messy knot that is slowly slipping from its pins. Her robes are beautiful, they seem to shimmer like candlelight as she moves. A tape measure snakes around her neck and I see another draped across her arm, and yet another in a pocket on her robes.

"Now, you must be a first year, gosh! I remember going shopping for my school robes…I was terribly nervous about starting Hogwarts, I didn't know whether I was coming or going. You must be a nervous wreak…Muggle-borns usually are you know. Oh there's nothing to worry about. Hogwarts is great… you're going to have a fabulous time! I suppose you're here with Dumbledore? Great man, great man, always good to me, very polite, very courteous. But dare I say it? A little barmy…just one sandwich short of a picnic... if you know what I mean?"

All this comes out in one great, undigested lump. I couldn't get a word in a word in edgeways even if I had wanted to. While all this is going on, the tape measures are flying around, taking measurements of my height, my arms, my legs and even my head. The whole thing is just bizarre. A white quill floating in midair writes down all the measurements. Madame Malkin keeps talking but I'm not listening now. I'm thinking of the red haired boy, that I wish was by my side. "Aha…just as I thought, you're a size 62A, average really." The pack of robes comes speeding towards her and I take it gratefully.

"Thank-you ma'am" I say politely. "How much do I owe you?"

She looks at me carefully, straight in the eye. Her eyes are very pretty, a strange lilac color, that I've not seen in eyes before. It feels as if she looking right into my soul, like Dumbledore does. I wonder if all witches and wizards do this? I'm sure she sees the hurt and anguish I feel every single day. "Just a smile dearie…cheer up won't you?" A half-hearted grin floats its way onto my lips, but doesn't stay very long. I'm trying, I really am. I don't want to be prickly. Madame Malkin sighs, loudly and mutters to herself "I must be crazy" before going to help the next customer, who can't find the self-ironing robes.

I make an effort to smile for the rest of the day, but I'm afraid it looks more like a grimace, even Dumbledore's looking at me funny now. We visit the rest of the shops, I'm exhausted, by this point, yet everything around me amazes me still. _Amanuenis Quills _sells quills in every shape color and forms. Some never run out of ink, some that always write the correct answers, some that always write the wrong answers. I buy 20 plain white quills and 3 bottles of ink as black as night.

We visit _Potage's Cauldron Shop, _which sells cauldrons. I imagined cauldrons to be black, like you see in cartoons. These cauldrons are every color of the rainbow. I see cauldrons made of solid gold and silver, enchanted cauldrons that never stop brewing and ones that only work to their master's bidding. Again I buy the standard, a plain pewter cauldron.

_Slug & Jiggers Apothecary _sells potion ingredients. The smell is awful in there, so overwhelming. I can't breathe, and everywhere I turn I see a barrels of disgusting looking things. I gag repeatedly and try to avoid looking in the barrels and boxes. Yet I still see. I see things that have been pickled or poached, skinned or salted. Beetle eyes, slugs, unicorn horns, animal skins and special stones there are all in there. I'm trying not to look at anything too closely and to not breathe through my nose but I can't…I feel as if I'm going to faint…everything is spinning around me. I'm getting dizzier and dizzier. It's only when I see a jar of what looks like red human hair that I scream and run out. The person at the till is laughing in my wake. I sit outside, trying to catch my breath, my head resting in my hands. 10 minutes pass, then 15, then 20 and I'm thinking I might have to go back in when Dumbledore strolls out. He hands me the potion making kit that is on the list of supplies. "Thank-you" I whisper and tuck it in my bag. I don't want to look at the hateful thing any longer than I have to.

"Now we shall go to _Flourish and Blotts_" Dubledore says. "It's a bookshop, I think you'll enjoy it." I nod, gratefully, anything to get away from Slug & Jiggers.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N – Chapter 8! Yay arabellagrace reviewed again and I replied again! Thanks to everyone who followed! I'm thinking of doing a really short Dumbledore POV? What do you think? Please leave a review, it makes me really happy!**

I am officially in love with _Flourish and Blotts. _It is the most amazing place I have ever been to. I'd go through 6 years at Hogwarts being stared at, maybe even ridiculed, I'd put-up with it all just to go back there every year. The books…oh the books! I could stay up every night reading and not get through half of them. They were in piles everywhere, stacked to the ceiling. Books everywhere you turn. The smell was fabulous, of leather and ink. I love the smell of ordinary bookshops, but this, this was something else. I took deep, deep breaths, my free breaths in over 6 months. I sighed, I would be perfectly content to spend hours pouring over the books in here. Books the size of paving stones lay, some half open, on the ground. Other books were tiny, miniscule really only the size of my thumb. The titles and authors I had never heard of before but I didn't care. I just wanted to devour them all. I restrained myself though and pulled out the crumpled list from my pocket.

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

_by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic_

_by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by_

_Adalbery Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_

_by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

_by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

_by Quentin Trimble_

I set about gathering the books on the list, marveling at some of the titles available from the overcrowded bookshelves. The thing that astounded me, but seemed perfectly ordinary to all the wizards and witches around me was that, all the pictures in the books were moving. All the pictures!The people in portraits were scratching their noses, dancers were going through their steps and streets, not unlike the one we had come in from, were busy with people going about their business. My eyes skimmed across the titles, searching for the ones I needed: _Twelve Fail-safe Ways to Charm Wizards, Human Transfiguration Gone Wrong! _and _Merlin's Magical Mark _all caught my eye, remember I would have read anything at that stage. I hummed as I went, truly happy for the first time in weeks. I was in my element. "Ms. Granger?" again a voice cut me from my daydream. "Um…yes?" I answered not fully paying attention. "Would you like help finding your books?" Dumbledore asks. "No" I reply firmly. This was the best fun I'd had in weeks, no one was stopping me now. I spent a good hour in the bookshop. Strangely, it looked quite small and poky when we were outside, it was huge on the inside, quite maze-like. When the books had been purchased, I felt that light feeling again, as we stepped out into the sunshine. I was becoming part of the wizarding world.

Before I knew it we had gotten everything on the list, everything, that is, except my wand. As we walked along the street, I could see the sign _Ollivander's Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC _it read, with a picture of a wand underneath. I knew that that was where we were headed. It looked like a beautiful shop, with big wooden bay windows and old fashioned tiles on the roof, everything was very pretty here I realized. It was all very quaint, very traditional. I liked it preferred it to the busy London high street.

Inside, it was similar to Flourish and Blotts only with an earthy, woody scent. It was calm and quiet. An old man greeted us at the door. He was old but not Dumbledore old, and had funny, fluffy white hair that hung in clouds over his face.

"Good day Dumbledore" he said in a reedy voice before hacking out a cough. "And who do we have here?"

"This is Hermione Granger, Muggle-born witch, starting Hogwarts in September" Dumbledore introduced me, as he clapped his hands on my shoulders in a protective way.

"A Muggle-born, eh?" said the man, but kindly, not sarcastically, as the creature in Gringotts did."My name is Mr. Ollivander, I will find a wand that will choose you in a jiffy, it should be easy enough, you look a bright young girl. Remember the wand chooses the witch, Ms. Granger, the wand chooses the witch."

I wasn't sure how that was going to work, but did not interrupt him.

He climbed a ladder, to reach the top shelf, where stacks and stacks of boxes, all different colors were precariously stacked. The labels on them were carefully hand written, so small that I couldn't read them, even when I craned my neck and stood on tiptoe.

"Try this one dear: oak and dragon heartstring, 6 inches, quite flexible." I wasn't sure what he meant by 'try' but I took it from his hand.

"Go on then dear, give it a good wave." he prompted, after I stood staring incredulously at him.

I half-heartedly flicked the wand through the air, but nothing happened. I felt foolish, standing there, the two old men watching me, so a waved again, this time with more determination.

"No, no, no," Mr. Ollivanders voice cut through the air. "Not right, not right at all."

I was sure he was chastising me, and hung my head.

"Oh, not you dear" he said. "The wand, it just isn't right, not at all, it doesn't fit you right at all…maybe we should try…" his voice trailed off as he wandered away presumably looking for another wand.

I looked at Dumbledore, and he smiled back kindly, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.

"This is it, Ms. Granger" Mr. Ollivander announced, and he pulled another wand from its box. " This one is a beauty, willow and phoenix feather, 10 inches, pleasantly springy." I waved it, and the end sparked momentarily, before fizzling out… I sighed disappointed, afraid too. I was afraid that Mr. Ollivander would pull out every wand from its box, but none would be right, and I would be sent home in disgrace.

"Oh close!" Mr. Ollivander exclaimed as he took another wand from its box. "I think…yes I think this one will do. It's rather old, I've had it years now, but it seems to suit you - rowan and phoenix feather, 9 inches, springy enough."

I take the darker wand in my hand and immediately I can feel something, something warm vibrating in my uncontrollable shaking hands. I can feel the power in this wand, radiating into my hand, my body. This time when I flick my wrist through the air, beautiful red sparks flick out from the wand, flying through that air and knocking over a lamp from a desk. "Oh! Oh I say! That was wonderful dear, simply marvelous! This wand has chosen you Ms. Granger; now that will be 10 Galleons. I knew that be would be right…" Mr. Ollivander triumphantly says but I'm not listening, in fact he could be saying anything, I'm in shock.

The wand, the one wand out of the thousands that I'm sure are in this shop, the wand that I choose is rowan. Rowan, the wood. The conflicting emotions building up inside me, threatens to burst out, I can feel me face going red and my eyes getting wet. Why does it have to be this wand…any other would do? I stare in contempt at the wand resting in my still shaking hand. The hurt I still feel inside me, the hurt I've tried so hard to bury, to hide, to mask sits like a rock in my stomach, a rock of pure raw emotion. It hurts. Rowan would have laughed at the coincidence and danced around in excitement at having found the wand that chose him. But I can't accept this as easily, I can't accept that every time I use this wand in my new life, there will be a reminder that I don't want or need, a reminder of my brother, my twin that's no longer here. I'm still contemplating this as Dumbledore puts a hand on my back and steers me out of the shop and into the sunshine. I'm in daze, trying very hard not to cry.

"I understand that this must be impossibly hard for you Hermione" came the soft, kind voice of the Professor. I nodded staring blankly at the endless horizon of shop fronts in front of me, blinking rapidly to stop the tears coming. "But as unfortunate and may I say untimely as this is, you will have to accept that this is the wand that chose you, the wand that unfortunately bears Rowans name. I'm sorry dear, but there's no way to change it, this is the wand you will have to use."

I give a whimper as he says Rowans name, and all of a sudden I can't stand being alone anymore. I can't stand coping by myself. It's too hard, the hurt is too much, an insurmountable amount of grief. I just can't do it any more. Without thinking, I fling myself into his arms, the soft robes gentle on my face. His arms stiffen at first, in surprise most likely, but in a split second his arms are enveloping me in the hug I've needed since 6 months ago really. It's comfort beyond belief. The tears escape my eyes and there's not stopping them now, the floodgates are open. I sob quietly at first but they grow louder and uncontrollable. i sob and sob sniffing and snuffling into his robes as I do so. I'm all out wailing now but Dumbledore just pats my hair softly, kindly with his hands. I feel more at home here, in his arms than I do even in my own house. I could stay here forever.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N – Thank you arabellagrace you reviewed again! I really want to know what you other guys think of the story so far though. Review! Thanks for following!**

When I have cried my fill, it took several minutes of gasping and coughing to compose myself enough to raise my head from the soft robes. My face felt swollen and blotchy and I could only imagine how red and puffy my eyes looked.

"It's all right Ms. Granger, take as long as you want." Again the familiar voice comes soft and calming. "Here have a square of this" and from his robes he pulls a single square of chocolate with the word _Honeydukes _stamped into it. I take it wondering if I should wave my wand at it or cast a spell. Or something. I decide I'm over thinking and just eat it. It is the single best thing I have ever eaten. It warms me to my very core. It dissolves the rock of hurt that sits in my stomach, for now at least, and I immediately feel less shivery and sniffily. I wish I could eat the stuff morning, noon and night.

"Feeling better?" Dumbledore asks and I nod because I am, I feel 10 times better than I did 2 minutes ago.

"Perhaps it's time to return to your world? Indeed your parents must be wondering where you have got to." I have completely lost track of time. In fact, any amount of time could have passed, I feel as if we've been in Diagon Alley for an age.

"It must be strange" he mused out loud "coming to this world for the first time. Muggles really bluntly don't believe in magic. They are blind to it, to us, to the whole world that exists in parallel to their own. They have so many substitutions for the gifts and talents that we take for granted, electricity and science, that it's very hard for a lot of Muggle born witches and wizards to accept the truth. You are coping…" he looks to me as if to gauge how I'm taking this…"surprisingly well". At that, a giggle escapes my lips. Me? Hermione Granger, the emotional wreak, who cries when she sees a recipe for gingerbread and reads herself to sleep every night, is coping with something well. There's a joke for you.

Dumbledore smiles at me giggling, it's probably the first time he's seen me happy, apart from in _Flourish and Blotts _but hewas distracted then, admiring a copy of _A History of the Wizarding World's Favourite Sweet Treats. _

A thought comes over me, all of a sudden. It's not as if it's been niggling at the back of mind, no quite the opposite it hasn't struck me at all…not until now. Dumbledore doesn't know what happened to Rowan. He can't know, who would have told him? For the first time, a thought of Rowan doesn't send me into a breakdown…maybe it's the chocolate. I think back at all of Dumbledore's kindness toward me the friendly smiles, the soft, calm-inducing voice and the hug that brought me the most comfort I've felt in 6 months. He's just done this blindly, without knowing. It's that realization that he'll comfort me, that gives me the courage. I'm going to tell him, I decide…right now. I'm going to say it out loud, I have to tell someone what happened for the first time ever. Mum and Dad told everyone, they handled all that. They told the school principal, the grandparents that we only see at Christmas and the Scout leader. That must have been hell for them, I think. Pure and utter hell. How do begin that conversation? I guess I'm going to find out…

"Sir" I begin quite formally, considering I was wailing into his arms just a minute ago "I need to tell you what happened…to…I mean how Rowan…you know… I have to tell you how it happened." All this comes in rush, my throat has closed up now, constricting around my words making my voice sound choking and hesitant. I'm beginning to doubt myself now, I don't know if I'm going to be able to get the words out. I have to do this though…I have to. I'll never do it, I'll never go through with it if it doesn't happen now. It's just so hard, the pain is physical, you could kick me and beat me to the ground but its nothing to this, nothing.

"Certainly" Dumbledore said quite calmly "if you feel ready…you do feel ready Hermione? I don't think you should pressure yourself into this. But if you wish to tell someone, and I'd be simply honored if that person was me, I am, as they say, all ears."

"I have to tell someone and I really do want to…it's, it's just the words…I…I don't think I'm able to say them, they just jam…here." I say as I point at my throat, the throat that feels as if it's being squeezed together by some invisible force, stopping my words in their tracks.

"Well, maybe, if your parents permit it, we can use the Pensieve. We can look in your memories and see what happened. It's just an idea, it might make things easier to show someone else. I always find, if I have too much thoughts crammed into my head, it helps to observe them as a third person. You are not obliged to do this Ms. Granger, but perhaps…"

"Yes" I interrupt, "I think, yes, I think that would be perfect."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N – Yay arabellagrace thank you so much! So glad you like that plot line. Hope I do it justice in this chaper. So here it is chapter 10 - enjoy! Review! Ps I might be updating a little less, as we're back to school this week…**

We travel to Dumbledore's house, which is in the small village of Little Whinging in Surrey. We take yet another train, only stopping to send an owl to my parents, explaining we won't be home till late. I feel calmer than I would have expected to, although I can't unclench my hands from the fists they have balled themselves into. My breath is a little gasping as well. Oh well…this is my own doing I think.

We arrive at Dumbledore's house, to be honest I expected something a little more…extraordinary.

His house was just the same as all the houses on the street, a square hedge, with the same rectangle of green grass, maybe a little less tidy than the houses around it but still, it was perfectly and completely and most boringly ordinary. The house itself was a detached, two story, brown brick similar to my own house. Again I had hoped for the insides to be made up of pots and pans cleaning themselves or a talking mirror maybe or moving paintings and pictures. As we walked inside, I was disappointed yet again, it was decorated with a mossy green carpet, with beige walls and slightly darker brown couches and armchairs. It was the sort of furniture you see in a hotel room or a pre-decorated flat. I looked at Dumbledore, my eyebrows raised in disbelief…surely this man, the first wizard I have ever met and by far the most unusual person I have ever met couldn't live in this boring suburban setting.

"Would you like something to eat or drink Ms. Granger? I shake my head, my insides are churning with nerves, I'm sure I wouldn't be able to keep anything down. My throat has also started constricting itself again.

"Very well, shall we go down to the basement then?"

He waved his wand and a flap opened just in front of the couch where I had positioned myself. He waved his wand again and a sliver of liquid metal flew through the air and twisted itself into a metal staircase. "After you Ms. Granger."

With my mouth hanging open in astonishment for the a hundredth time today, I stagger down the staircase, into the basement. I thought the basement was underground, but it must be enchanted because the large windows let us see the exact view we had from the living room. It was all very strange indeed. The basement had rich red carpeting that was impossibly soft beneath my feet. Purple lamps hovered in mid air giving the room a strange purple glow. It was lavishly decorated with the finest furniture, there was even a highly polished suit of armor which greeted me with a low bow. A green fire burned in the grate, the flames rising high in the golden fireplace. Strange objects and instruments decorated the hearth. It looked like a mad mans doing, strangely shaped glass bottles and jars, twisted into golden clamps. i saw pendulums swinging, balls rolling down specially engineered ramps and most curious of all, tiny mouse running in a treadmill. I particularly enjoyed the bright red and orange bird, the most beautiful bird I have ever seen, that flew around me. I fell for this room just I had fallen for _Flourish and Blotts. _

When I had looked around, Dumbledore ushered me to a corner of the room, where a stone bowl of silvery stuff was. It shimmered and swirled around the basin, it was utterly mesmerizing, I couldn't stop staring at it. I was transfixed. "This is Pensieve, Hermione, it will allow us to view your memories and that way, I can find out what happened, without us going through the sticky business of you telling me. Now before we begin, I must ask you again, are you completely sure, this is what you want?"

I had thought about it on the long train journey, it was exactly what I wanted… I wanted to see him again, if only for a few minutes, I only hoped I could look away, when the time came.

"Yes" I tried to say calmly though it came out stiff and shaky. I cleared my throat. "Yes, I'm sure" I said louder, willing him to believe me. He gave me that long piercing look again and nodded. "Right, I'm going to extract the memory from your head." When he saw me take a step back in fear, he chuckled. "I can assure you it will be completely painless." As he began, muttering something under his breath, I clamped my eyes shut, then, realizing I didn't want to be going into the unknown I opened them again. Dumbledore had a look of intense concentration on his face, and was pulling a silvery thread of something from the side of my forehead with his wand. The thread looked to be alive, shaking and vibrating, you could almost see the power radiating off it.

He added it to the silver bowl and stirred it with the wand.

"When you are ready" he said, and gestured to the bowl of gaseous liquid. I bent my head down to get a closer look, but I couldn't see anything. Then the liquid cleared and I could make out what looked like a tiny television screen. I couldn't see the picture clearly so I leaned even further forward, then a strand of my bushy hair fell into the bowl and I was being sucked into the bowl of Pensieve.

I was falling, falling into the bowl, which was impossible, it had only been a tiny bowl in the room, but no, I was tumbling through the air. I landed with an oomph in the grass. Grass? This was getting stranger.

I lifted my head and recognized the scene almost immediately, it was me, me and Rowan walking home from school. It was a perfectly ordinary day. Except I knew what was gong to happen, any minute now actually… But wait…Rowan?! I almost exclaimed out loud, I ran toward him, almost falling in my haste to get to him. My mouth went dry. It was him, my brother…alive! I tried to hug him, but my arms went through him. "Rowan, Rowan!" I half laughed, half gasped. "Rowan…" he and Other Me continued chatting, as if I wasn't there at all, walking away from me, as I crumpled on the pavement. I was sobbing already. Deep gulping sobs, he couldn't hear me he couldn't see me. What was the point of this?

Then realizing this is probably the last time I'll be able to see him alive again…ever, I take a deep breath and pull myself together. I needed to hear what I said to him…before…before…My brain has blocked this memory out. I take another breath and run to catch up with Rowan and Other Me. I looked different then, my hair shinier and my eyes, they aren't red and blotchy ringed with purple. I look happy.

"I can't believe Mr. Bates gave you a higher grade on your paper Hermione, it was so twee, all that crap about sunsets and birdsong." says Rowan. My heart stops at the sound of the voice I thought I'd never hear again.

"Ha! You're just jealous Row-row" and Other Me pokes her tongue at him.

"Don't call me that!" he growls but Other Me just laughs.

What is Other Me teasing him for? I feel like shaking Other Me. She needs a good kick up the arse. She doesn't know, I remember, she doesn't know what happens next…

"Let's go to the shop Hermione, I want an ice cream."

"No Rowan, you know Mum and Dad…it's a Tuesday, no sweet stuff remember?"

"C'mon let's just go, live dangerously Mione…"

"Don't call me that Row-Row." We growl almost simultaneously.

"Mione, Mione, Mione, such a chicken she won't even buy an ice-cream" his cat-call comes sharp and clear through the spring air.

I remember how angry I felt, and how I saw red, my uncontrollable temper just flared… Now the teasing just seems perfectly friendly. I know Other Me didn't see it the same way though.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" I cried louder now.

"Mione, Mione, Mione, teachers pet, she looooooves Mr. Bates." He knew just where to hurt me. I was a teachers pet, too eager to please, doing all my homework, writing extra long essays and answers. But I did NOT love Mr. Bates, our dinosaur of a teacher, a wrinkly man, who made funny whistling noises when he spoke and wore hideous slacks up to his armpits.

"Shut-up Rowan!" I exclaimed, but he wouldn't. He just kept teasing me, teasing me, dancing round the street corner waving his bag above his head.

"Mione, Mione, Mione, Mione, Mione, Mione." It was all I could hear…a rushing torrent of noise had filled the air and all I could hear was the teases and cat calls.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I shoved him, hard, squarely in the chest. He fell backward a perfect look of surprise on his face, waving his arms, in an almost comic fashion. It would have been hilarious, a funny story to tell our cousins… but he fell back onto the road, just as the white van, the kind, you see everyday, just driving around, going about its business came speeding around the corner. Time slowed down to a crawl, but the van didn't.

Too fast, I thought and I knew Other Me was thinking that too.

That van is going too fast.

It came around the sharp corner

The one

Our parents

Had warned us to be careful on, time and time again.

Don't run they said. Stay together they said.

the driver

he tried to swerve

but Rowan was caught

beneath the tyre

the tyre that had the Michelin man on it

And with sickening noises

crunches

squelches

and the squeal of the brakes

the

long

drawn-out

scream comes

it lasts

so

so

long.

A

s

c

r

e

a

m

that lasts forever,

that shatters the still spring air

the scream that broke me.

The scream I have heard

every

single

night

since.

With that scream Rowan, is left

Pale

So, so pale.

And

It's

All

My

Fault.

The feeling of doubt, dread, disbelief and pure and utter gut-wrenching guilt comes flooding back to me. Other Me was sick, physically sick all down my school uniform. It's a horror movie a long, drawn out horror movie, except that I know what happens. I know that the neighbors rush out. I know the van driver begins to cry. I know that one woman faints, in shock that this has happened outside her house. I know that the husband calls the ambulance. I know that the ambulance takes forever and a day to come, but really it's only 8 minutes. I know that Rowan is put in the recovery position. I know the paramedics faces turn grim when they see him. I know that Rowan becomes a beeping mess of tubes and machines. I know that the paramedic squeezes my hand as we rush to the hospital.

And I know what happens three days later.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N – sorry guys…but like I said back to school and I'm doing exams soon. Anyways thank to arabellagrace for reviewing again. Anyone else find the last chapter "heart wrenching"? Let me know in the reviews! Thanks MinevraLover1234 for following me!**

The scene dissolves around me like liquid, with a faint 'swoosh' We're in the hospital and Other Me is sitting in that hard green plastic chair. The scene is so familiar, even though I've tried hard to forget it. We've just arrived. Her head hangs in her hands and tears flow down her face in rivers she doesn't even try to stop. Rowan has been taken to a special room. Nurse Freeman, tries to comfort her, fruitlessly. I hated Nurse Freeman then and I hate her now. Her face is plastered in a too thick layer of make up. Her eyes are ringed in blue and purple eye shadow, she has ugly flat leather shoes on her rather big feet. I know Other Me doesn't want that flabby, freckly arm draped around her shoulder and I try to push it off and shove Nurse Freeman away but neither of them react and my hands just go straight through her.

I wish I could comfort Other Me but I remember how beyond hope I am, and even if Other Me could see me, I probably wouldn't be much comfort to her. Mum and Dad come rushing from the surgery, their faces grey and strained, it's probably the first time they rushed to one of us from the surgery. They were always too busy, too busy for music recitals, spelling bees and awards day. They would show up to collect us after it was finished saying how sorry they were but they just couldn't make it. Oh well, I think, it's too late now. Rowans gone and I'm off to boarding school.

Dad is crying, that was the first time I ever saw him cry, but it became his normal behavior other the next few months. In fact it was unusual not to see him crying. They don't even see Other Me, crying in the green chair, instead they crouch by Rowans beeping mess of a body, stroking his red hair, the only part of him that had any color left. This is wrong, I think now. We should have wept together, held each other, huddled beside his sickbed together. It's part of the reason I've shut down, been left completely broken, I didn't have anyone to grieve with.

The doctors say that Mum and Dad have to leave the room, they need to restart his heart. The next hours pass in a blur of scalpels, machines, doctors and nurses. Even now, waiting, endless hours spent on those green chairs, Mum and Dad are useless, they sit staring listlessly into space. Other Me faints at one point, they don't even notice. I watch as Other Me starts gasping for breath, and slumps off her chair, out cold on the lino flooring. It's that Nurse Freeman that puts her head between her knees and gives her a glass of water to sip when she comes to. I don't even remember fainting…

Finally they were allowed in to see him. His face was still deathly pale and he was completely out of it, all the drugs he was on. He was hot and sweaty and the bandages on his face had blood on them. Other Me didn't care, she ran to his side, the first one in, and held his hand for dear life. Rowan and her had exactly the same sized hands. Other Me cried, quietly muttering things into his ear.

"Hey Rowan, it's me" she said, gulping "it's me, Mione. We're in the hospital, the same one I had my appendix out in. Do you remember when you came to see me? It was great because you convinced Mum to buy me all those chocolates, but you ate them all. I was so mad but when I got out of hospital you made all that jelly for me because you thought I had had my tonsils out. You're gonna get better Rowan, the doctor said and dad he…he promised but…but" she gulps "the doctor said you might me in a wheelchair for a while. But that's ok, I'll get one too and we can have races down the hall, it'll be fun…" She sounds unsure. " But Rowan, listen to me now, because you have to get better, because I need you too, we've got our science project in on Monday. Anyway just tell your heart to keep going okay?" She looks up at the monitor that hovers perpetually around Rowan now. The green spiked lines that come with the beeps are reassuring but the gap between them is too long. She could go on for hours but more but Mum sweeps in, wearing her expensive Prada dress suit. "Don't worry Babybear, Mommy's here" she announces. "Mommy's here now…" she clasps his head between her hands and rocks it gently. "Shhhhhh…."

Other Me has retreated to the side of the room, her fingers tightly crossed, watching the heart monitor like a hawk, gasping with relief every time the reassuring beep comes. Now I bristle with anger. Rowan hated, hated with a with a passion, being called Babybear. Maybe I imagine it, but I think a little wrinkle appears in his forehead when Mum called him Babybear. He was smiling a little when Other Me was whispering to him. I fold my arms, I wish I could hold his hand, rub my hand through his hair, give him a hug, just one last time…. I could sit staring at him for hours, drinking it all in. The exact shape of his face, the color of his hair, which I'm sure I'll never see again.

The scene dissolves again, suddenly. "No" I scream as the background swirls behind me, "nooooo…" I'm not ready, I need to see him for as long as possible, I want to relive the hours I spent on that chair in Rowan's room, watching him breathe, his chest rising and falling slowly, as if he was sleeping, except without his signature whistling snores. The snores I'll never hear again. Now I'll never get to. "No" I whisper.

I look around and realize what I'm going to see. I watch numbly, my eyes wide and my heart fluttering in my chest. The three of us are in the waiting room, the doctors had to do some tests, whatever that means. They've been at it for hours. Mum is sitting blearily in a chair, filing her nails all the way down to the quick. Dad is holding a newspaper in front of him, but not reading it, it's the same one he's had for the last three days. Other Me is chewing at her thumb, watching everything carefully, noticing all the funny things that are going on, trying not to think what's going on behind the closed door. The world goes on outside, traffic rushing past, bin men and postmen doing their rounds and families going grocery shopping, an ordinary Friday afternoon. I'm panicking now, wishing I wasn't here, once was bad enough, once was bad enough. Twice…I don't think I can do doctor comes out of the room, a clipboard in his hand. I'll never forget the expression on his face, a combination of regret and something else, a dullness, like he was used to doing this. Which, I remind myself, he probably was.

He clears his throat and walks solemnly over to my parents. "I'm sorry, but Rowans heart, it was so weak after the accident, his heart has just failed, he hasn't made it, I'm afraid. I'm very, very sorry indeed." At that sentence the world comes crashing down around Other Me and I feel it too, yet everyone else keeps going about their daily business like they haven't noticed the world what has happened. Mum's reaction is the worst, she collapses out of her chair and just screams, a hollow scream, raw with emotion. Other Me is in denial, her eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. "He's not…what…no you said…you said he'd get better. You promised Dad….you promised me…he wouldn't DIE. I didn't know, I didn't know." Other Me loses it and starts screaming at Dad and Mum and the doctor. "You promised me he wouldn't DIE, you PROMISED." As she gets more and more hysterical, a shot has to be administered, by Nurse Freeman herself. I see Other Mes eyes roll back in her head and Nurse Freeman lies her down on a plastic chair.

Because of my fit, because I had to be knocked out…I didn't get to say goodbye. The thought only comes to me only now as the scene dissolves again.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N – Ok here's Chapter 12! I never thought this story would be so long…maybe 2 more chapters. Thank you to Aquila Lestrange for following. Don't forget to review! Does anyone else find they can't write without music? Enjoy!**

When the background clears, I find myself in my bedroom. Other Me is lying on the bed crying her heart out, snot and tears mixed on her face. Her nose is red and eyes are sore and blotchy. Today is the day of the funeral. The outfit that Other Me has to wear is hanging on the wardrobe door. It's plain black skirt paired with a white shirt and black patent leather shoes. They pinch her feet, but the pain is nothing compared to what she feels inside. The outfit is brand new, still adorned with swing labels. I have no idea how my mother had time to buy it.

"Hermione" the call comes from downstairs, "we're leaving in five minutes." Slowly as if it requires a lot of effort, Other Me sits up and shuffles, like a very old woman, into the bathroom to wash her bleary face. She hasn't stopped crying, the tears are still streaming down her face. I want to put my hand on her shoulder, to show her that I understand, I understand how hard it is, how much courage it took to get out of bed that day.

When the scene dissolves again, we're in the cold church where the funeral was held. The church is packed, everyone from our year is there along with all our cousins and Mum and Dad's friends from work. The remainder of my family sits on the front pew, that's to say, Mum, Dad and Me. The church is the Dad goes to every Sunday, Mum doesn't believe in that stuff. Sometimes Rowan and I would go along with him. The sermon was always long and dull, usually Rowan and I would get a fit of the giggles and have to sit outside. We always got ice cream afterwards. The thought of the creamy sweetness turns my stomach as I watch Other Me staring intently at the coffin. Oh the coffin, it's made of a hideous white wood, with silver handles and a little silver crucifix on top. Very twee I think. The coffin is covered in flowers of some sort, all sprayed with Super Scent. The stench fills my nostrils again and I gag, to me this smell, along with the smell of braking tyres is the smell of my brother's death. The flowers surround a framed photo of Rowan, not one I recognize, he's smiling in a strained way, it's very posed. I hate it. There's thousands of better photos they could have chosen. Who chose this? I think in disgust. Everyone in our class has signed one of those ridiculous, over-sized cards. They've written stupid messages like:

"_We'll miss you Rowan, you'll always live on in our hearts."_

"_Hope you're smiling in Heaven, bro"_

The messages cause bile to rise in my throat. The facts are Rowan is not living on. He's dead, a cold, unmoving, not breathing corpse, frozen in that wooden box forevermore. He'll rot in that box and his skeleton will remain the size of an 11 year old forever. No more growing, no more smiling, no more laughing, no more tricks. I remember being desperate, thinking the coffin lid would slide open and Rowan would be in peals of laughter inside, curled up on the crushed velvet. False hope, again.

The sermon drags on, with hymns from the school choir, they even sing _You Raise Me Up, _which I know for a fact is Rowan's least favorite song. The priest warbles on, I can't listen to him talk about a boy he never knew, as if he had. It's pure hypocrisy. A lump rises in my throat, I'm going to cry, I am at my brothers funeral after all. Other Me already has silent tears dampening her face, Dad is crying too but Mum is grey and pale and clenching Other Mes hand in hers, digging her perfectly manicured nails in much too hard. I watch, silent as my brothers coffin is carried on the shoulders of Dad, both grandfathers and his godfather – Rupert. They can't see where they're going as the smaller than average coffin is hoisted onto their shoulders, because tears mist in all of their eyes.

We walk in a grim procession behind the hearse. Some of the girls in my glass, Emma, Bonnie, Maggie and Evanna are holding onto each other, weeping about "their lost love." I feel like slapping them, it's just a show, an act. They never loved Rowan. Other Me hasn't even noticed. The procession is almost comically long, but there's nothing funny about this situation. We travel to graveyard…the graveyard, something I never had cause to visit. It's a dull place, built on a hill. There's nothing creepy or eerie about the place, it fact it's quite calm. The sunny day just makes the whole thing feel wrong. It is wrong. We are burying an 11 year old boy on a sunny day, it's the type of day where we would have gone out on our bikes, cycling around the block. Now we're putting his body into the ground, never to be seen again. The priest does something with holy water and makes the sign of the cross. The coffin, the white coffin is lowered into the deep, dark hole. I desperately want to jump down with him, curl up beneath the earth where it's silent and I don't have to watch my painful transition between a lively, bossy girl with a brother to a prickly, brotherless bitch. I decide I'm going to do it and am pushing my way through the crowd, when I feel a tugging on my t-shirt. I gasp, no one here should be able to see or touch me. Then I see Dumbledore, and I gasp yet again, I had completely forgotten he's here, that he's been watching this whole time. He's seen my break down, he's seen what I did, that I killed my brother. I look at him, wondering how he'll punish me. Then I look closer, he's shaking, he's shaking with tears that are flowing down his face and into his silvery beard. I fall into his arms, knowing he won't judge me for what I've done, God only knows why. I cry on his shoulder again, not for the first time today. I half hope it's not the last, his robes are so soft and welcoming.

When I finally have the strength to look up again, I see Other Me dropping a handful of dirt over the coffin. When this horrific task has been completed she collapses, her knees sinking into the dirt. She is so angry, so impossibly angry, I wish someone would give her something to break, a vase maybe. Instead, one of the aunts peels Other Me off the ground, scoops her into her arms and carries her to one of the waiting cars. The service, and this ordeal is nearly over anyway. I'm surprised Other Me lasted this long.

Next comes the reception it's in some hotel we've had Sunday lunch in the odd time. I had steak and chips, I remember now. It's a sea of black bodies, the odd white shirt here, or beige coat. No one is in colors today. Rowan would have hated this, absolutely hated it. The event is subdued, morbid and just dull. Voices speak in hushed tones, it's the same people who would be here for a birthday party or Christening but it's for the completely wrong occasion. Other Me isn't allowed a moment of peace. She is fetched biscuit after biscuit, sandwich after sandwich, which she always turns down. No one remembers she doesn't like egg salad or ham with cheese. She sips a cup of tea half heartedly but the milk turns sour in her mouth and she stops. Each and every relative comes over to her to deliver their meaningless condolences. She keeps up a bland expression throughout but I know she's seething with rage at what they're saying. It's lies all of it. LIES.

_I'm so sorry for you loss. _

_A real pity, a real pity._

_Such a shame, I can't imagine how you feel, dreadful._

The only one that has an effect on her placid pokerface is from Timmy, who was Rowan's best friend. He says:

_This is a load of shit Hermione, I'll fucking kill that driver one day._

It brings a half smile to her face, because Timmy's comment is ridiculous, he is the most skinny, scrawny child, milk-white with arms like sticks. She almost laughs, but not quite and whispers. "Thanks Timmy." Only now can I appreciate that comment properly, I feel like shaking Timmy's hand and lifting him up like a hero. He's the only one who has the tiniest inkling to what I went through, I don't know anyone else who killed their twin brother.

"Thanks Timmy." I whisper again, but of course, only Dumbledore hears.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N- Today's a bank holiday, so I though I'd do Chapter 13! Please tell me what you thought of Chapter 12, it was really emotional for me to write, hope you found it okay. Follow and favorite too!**

This time, when the scene dissolves, there's a lifting sensation and I find myself back in Dumbledore's basement. Without stopping to turn my head to see if Dumbledore made it out, I crawl onto one of the elegant couches in the room. There I begin to cry. It's just so unfair, I don't see how this has helped at all, it only has made me feel even more guilty and lonelier than ever. I tuck my knees to my chest and curl up, my back to the room. I want to be alone. I want to stay here forever, just reading and crying, reading and crying.

A slight cough comes from the room. With a sigh, I rudely turn my head to Dumbledore, I thought this would help, he tricked me, he said I would feel better. He looks nervous, twitchy and struggles to get the words out.

"Ms. Granger, are you angry?" he says, the calming tone gone from his voice. It's now quivering and shaky. I remember his tears at the graveyard and feel a rush of gratitude toward the old man.

"So angry." I mutter to the couch.

"You need to break something."

I turn at him in surprise, not for the first time I wonder if he can read minds, I was thinking exactly that when I saw Other Me collapse into the dirt at the graveyard. I raise an eyebrow quizzically at him. I'm doubtful, isn't this is the man who said the Pensieve would help me.

"Try this," he says, and he passes me one of the exquisite looking experiments from the mantle. This one is a set golden orbs, with a smaller silver orbs inside that are levitating and revolving slowly. The whole contraption is balanced on slender silver rods, one on each side.

"Oh, I couldn't." The words come out of mouth before I even tell them too.

He simply holds out the orbs for me to take, his old wrinkled hand straining with the effort. They must be heavy.

I gingerly remove the contraption from his hand. It is heavy, my arms are aching only holding it for mere seconds. It is the perfect object, so delicate, so breakable.

"Go on, Ms. Granger" Dumbledore urges me, "Do it."

Before I know it, I've let the orbs fall from my hands, they land on the thick carpet with a soft thud. It's not the sound I was hoping for. I see one of the orbs, a silver one, still intact, I don't know what makes me do it, but I bend down to pick it up. I throw it up and catch it again easily. Without thinking I throw it at the wall, hard. It smashes with a most satisfying crash. I pick up orb after orb, throwing them at the walls, again and again. The ones that are left on the carpet I jump on, grinding them into the carpet with my sneakers. The silver rods, I snap easily, even though I shouldn't be that strong. Maybe it's the angry, because all I can see is red mist in front of my eyes. a primitive scream escapes from the throat. I keep smashing and crashing until the carpet is speckled with sprinkles of glass. I smile, I'm not ashamed to admit it I feel better now.

"Hmmm" Dumbledore says, he's been watching calmly from an armchair, a safe distance away from the flying glass. "Perhaps… yes, I think this will do nicely." He magics an ornament through the air toward him. This one is a glass deer, it has the most beautiful, diamond eyes that glitter and sparkle in the purple torchlight. I whack it against the wall without a second thought. Dumbledore passes me five more of the ornaments and strange contraptions, which I destroy in turn. It feels good, it feels good to have power and control over something.

When I am finished my breath is coming in ragged sobs, I didn't know I was crying, let alone when I started.

"Ms. Granger, I'm here to talk if you want to."

I do I desperately want someone to comfort me, to stroke my hair and whisper "it's all right" but it's not, it's not all right and it hasn't been for the last six months. I'm starting to feel it won't be ever again.

"I…I didn't mean to kill him." I say in a hushed voice. "I didn't mean to." He has to know this.

"Ms. Granger surely you don't think… that's…Oh, Ms. Granger you didn't kill your brother, you didn't kill him… he died in a series of unfortunate events."

"But I did…I diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid." I'm wailing now. "I killed him, if it weren't for me t-t-teasing and push…pushing him…he'd be alive. I killed him Professor, I killed him, I di-"

"Hermione!" the use of my first name snaps me to alertness. "You did not kill your brother. Didn't you see in the Pensieve? It was the dangerous corner, the speeding van that killed him. If the van hadn't been there would he have been killed?"

I don't answer.

"Ms. Granger… if the van hadn't been there would he have been killed?"

I refuse to answer that question, he's going to trick me again, to trick me into saying I didn't kill Rowan, when I did. I pushed him under the tyre. I killed him. It was my fault.

"Ms. Granger, we shall sit here all night if we must, if the van hadn't been there would he have been killed?"

"No." My answer comes small and weak.

"Quite right."

"But Rowan would have been so mad, he would have put Lego in my bed or something."

Dumbledores laugh comes sweet and medolic, "Of course he would have, he had a temper that boy."

"I know." I whisper, "I tried to forget everything about him, but I can't, I just can't."

"You shouldn't, Hermione, you shouldn't forget him."

"It hurt too much. It still hurts, it will always hurt to remember him."

"I know, Ms. Granger, I know. The past can hurt but you can't hide from it, you can't stay in your room reading, you can't jump in a hole, you can't stay curled up on this couch in my basement. You have to get up and get going. You can't let the past drag you down. It's so hard not to, but you have to be strong and stay strong. Rowan would want you to move on, he would be pushing you forward, I know he would."

"So I've got to go home?" I couldn't stand the thought, to go back to the place I had barely left in the last six months, to back to the place that had an obvious, gaping Rowan-shaped hole missing.

"Yes", he chuckles, "You've got to go home, but Ms. Granger, remember, I'll see you on September 1st. I can't make any promises but I think things will be easier for you at Hogwarts. Now shall we?" he says, waving his wand to create the golden staircase. "Oh wait, before we go…" he waves his wand again and this time a blue bottle is summoned into his awaiting hand. "Take this, Ms. Granger, it guarantees a dreamless sleep."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N – Ok this is the second last chapter guys! Enjoy! Don't forget to leave a review, please. It only takes a second but leaves me ridiculously happy. **

Dumbledore POV

We travel back to London on the train, it's late now, her parents will be wondering where she is. I look at her, she's pale and wan. Her hair is in a bushy mess around her head and she looks as if she hasn't slept in a week. I wish I could keep an eye on her, but it's just so hectic in the run up to school, I have to return to the castle in August for a meeting with Fudge and the Board of Management, Lucius Malfoy, not what I need now.

Harry is starting school this year. I've had Minevra keep an eye on him, he seems to be coping well, as well as one can under the roof of the Durselys. From what I've heard, he's the image of his father but with his mothers eyes. Hagrid is planning to visit him soon, I know, I'll be glad when I have him safely in the castle. He's too precious, too valuable, a vital piece in the war against Voldemort, which is by no means over, we've just called a ceasefire. Not for a while though, not yet, hopefully many years from now. All this plays on my mind, the thoughts landing in my brain like raindrops, a rhythm to match the trains steady hum on the track.

Even when I drop Hermione off, I'm worried. I can't stop thinking about her. Her parents are not the comforting type, from what I've heard and seen they've been useless. They understand the bond Rowan and Hermione shared. Twins themselves are unusual,different. They'll always have each other, look out for one another, it's inevitable, that's the way it is with twins. Magical twins are something else. They are smarter, stronger, braver than others. Mostly Gryffindor, I muse to myself. Magical twins are extremely unusual, rare, to be prized. They often are telepathic from birth or can apparate at a very young age. The Weasely twins, Fred and George, they can tell what the other is thinking, they've always been able too. They're inseperable, trying to… it would be like trying to separate Gurdyroots and leeches eyes… impossible.

Now that Rowanis gone, it's so easy to see the effects it has had on her, the nightmares, strong emotions, uncontrollable magic that's much stronger than it should be. She snapped one of those silver rods, I saw her do it. She looked astonished for a moment but then threw it to the ground. It's beyond normal grief, something else entirely.

I saw into her head using Legilimency, though she would have hated me for it, I saw the love she had for Rowan, I saw their secret use of the 'powers' as they called them and I saw the guilt she feels. She blames herself completely, rather like I blamed myself when Ariana died, thatwas different of course, that was my fault, all my fault… I still think about that day, the awful day when Gellert turned on me. I knew, I knew he was twisted, evil but I chose to ignore it for 'the greater good'. My sister is dead, most likely killed at my hand, with my wand. Aberforth will never forgive me and rightly so. It's impossible to see past these simple facts to whatever greater good this supposedly is. I kept my nose crooked to remind me of that, I could have straightened it easily enough. I've never been strong enough to watch that day in Pensieve, I have the memory bottled, labeled neatly, I've poured it into the bowl, but I've never been able to force my head down into the memory. I'm not as strong as Hermione.

Hermione POV

So follows the most interesting weeks of my relatively short, yet pain filled life. I read my new textbooks, forcing myself to denounce science, physics and mathematics and learn about the world that has been hidden from me, from Muggles in general. I devour the knowledge, at first reluctant to accept what is clearly true. "Magic is real" I have to whisper to myself regularly. "Magic is real." I pinch myself, but thankfully, do not awake from a strange, complicated dream. I read about goblin battles in _A History of Magic, _of plants with strange properties in_ One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _and pore over the pages of _The Standard Book of Spells, _the simplest of spells astounding at enthralling me. Next year I will learn how to levitate objects, next year I will learn how to make a pineapple tap dance across a table, next year I will be a witch. All the pictures move in these books, I sit and watch them for hours on end. My old books that I spend the night reading are pointless and dull now. Knights wielding toothpick sized swords dash across the pages, I see plants grow form seedlings to enormous purple carnivorous flowers in seconds. I love the books, they're amazing, I've already read all of them at least three times.

My wand, I haven't really touched yet. It's too painful, the irony is laughably unfair, the one wand that had to chose me. Sometimes I glare at it, sitting in the trunk Dumbledore gave me, as if I can make it feel remorse for picking me. I miss Rowan more than ever, he would have loved magic, more than I do, I think. I've fallen for this new world that Dumbledore has let me believe I can be a part of, but Rowan, he would have bought every book in _Flourish and Blotts _he would have wanted to know everything. I can picture him flitting about Diagon Alley, diving into shops and stalls calling out "Hermione, come see! LOOK what I've found!" The Rowan shaped hole is still there, though it's easier to live with. It's as if I've gotten a puppy and it's just been house trained. Despite how I felt coming out of the Pensieve, it was amazing to see him again, to see him teasing me. I wish I could live in that moment forever, being perpetually teased, being called Mione for the rest of eternity. But as Dumbledore said I can't. I've got to move on, and the magical world seems like the best place to move to. I'm counting the days to September 1st when I'm getting the Hogwarts Express out of this sea of memories I've been drowning in for so long.


	15. Chapter 15

**Ok I'm so sorry about how long this took but here it is at last – Chapter 15! Thanks to all the followers I love you guys.**

At last, I think as I get out of bed. It's September 1st and the first day of what I hope will be my new life. I get out of bed faster than I have in the last six months, almost bouncing around the room, but not quite, that was the old me. His empty bed is still on the other side of the room, and if I squint a certain way I can see a tuft of red hair peeking out from under the duvet, his sleeping body rising and falling. Rowan hated mornings. Ouch. It still hurts. I guess it always will. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Not today I think, just…. not today. My 'going to Hogwarts' outfit sits on the bed, it's exactly what I normally would wear, jeans and a jumper. A brush of my hair and teeth later and I'm ready to go. My stomach is too jumpy to have breakfast this morning. I go downstairs but it's early yet, the sun hasn't risen and the streetlights are still a pale orange casting an eerie glow over the street outside.

Cars and vans and buses and trucks speed past on the road. Too fast I think still too fast. One less red headed kid in the world doesn't mean anything to those people out there. They're oblivious to what happened just a five minutes walk away from this house on a dangerous corner. The dangerous corner that I can't walk past without hearing the scream. Stop, I tell myself, not today, I've got stuff to do today.

I'm leaving this house now, leaving for the year. A year away from home, the most time I've ever spent away from home is a week at long ago summer camp in the Isle of Wight. I have to say goodbye don't I? I missed out on saying goodbye to my brother.

I remember seeing those dream home shows on television. A realtor would show a young and impossibly attractive couple around houses they couldn't afford. I decide to copy that.

"Let's start with the kitchen." I announce to my imaginary clients.

"A beautiful view of a wall from this window. You know this is the perfect kitchen for making pancakes in, they stick to the roof magnificently, at least they did when we made them. Wood flooring, perfect for sliding around in socks, works better if they're new socks though. You could buy those cool stools that spin for in here, set up a breakfast bar, but Mum was worried Rowan would break his neck or something. Anyway moving on…."

"A lovely sitting room through here, as you can see. The couches are perfect for jumping on, and they're just the right distance apart to jump from one to the other, well if you're a witch. The curtains, see those marks, that's from the cat that tried to claw it's way up to get away from Rowan. And if you sit in this exact spot you have a perfect view of the television, I can guarantee you, you will be fighting over this spot."  
"Now into the garden…."

I continued like this around the house playing a realtor showing them the bathroom and dining room before making my way upstairs. I managed to show them the spare room and the upstairs before hesitating at my bedroom door.

"Um, ok, this is the other bedroom." I take a deep breath before twisting the doorknob. "Let me just say that….um" my voice breaks on the words "this….this is the best bedroom twins could ever want. It's big enough for us not to get on eachothers nerves and for it not to look too messy. It's soundproof, basically, our parents never heard us do anything. It's really fun to paint, especially bright red because it gets everywhere, see those stains on the carpet? There's no monsters in these closets, I can tell you, nor under the bed. It's good for teasing and calling each other names, making stink bombs and paper aeroplanes and crying, and arguments, and storming off in a huff, and midnight feasts and dressing up, and pillow fights and hugs and tea parties and puppet shows and whistling snores and homework and reading and hugs and for secrets in the dead of the night… and… and…". My voice trails off and I'm crying now, soft gentle tears that heal, that don't destroy. I sit on my bed and hug my knees to my chin, the soft tears dampening my jeans. My insides constrict, I can't believe I'm leaving this room, today.

I hear the familiar creak of the door, but don't bother looking up, it'll only be Mum or Dad checking to see I'm getting ready. I just lie on the bed, staring at the wall the bright red wall. "Oh sweetie" it's Mum, I turn my head, she's wearing her ridiculous pink slippers and a silky dressing gown thing. She moves in slow motion and reaches out a hand to gently stroke my hair, it's soft and fluffy because I washed it last night. "It's ok, sweetie, I miss him too. Oh I miss him Hermione…." She's crying now.

"Oh sweetie." I copy her tone and stroke her hair. It makes her laugh, but tears are still rolling down her cheeks, I wipe them away with my thumb. We stay like this, me sitting in her lap, her stroking my hair gently for a few minutes. I feel calm, almost peaceful but I can hear her sobbing getting worse. "It's ok, we're okay." We mumble in unison, it's a phrase our counselor encourages us to say. Mum always rolls her eyes at it, it's become a sort of joke between us. Mum joking? Rowan wouldn't believe it.

An hour later, we're in the car on the way to King's Cross. Mum's driving, Dad can't stop shaking his head in disbelief, tears sometimes making their way down his unshaven cheek. He can't believe I'm leaving, neither can I, but my trunk's in the boot of the car. When we arrive at the station a witch greets us at the door. I was sent a picture of her last week so I could recognize her. "Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, Hermione." she nods at us, "we're running slightly late so you have just enough time to say goodbye before Hermione and I go to platform 9 ¾ ." Before I know it, my father has embraced me in a tight hug. I jump into his arms and wrap my legs around his back. "Have a wonderful time. Don't forget to write to us…. Preferably not by owl." He jokes but I know it's no laughing matter. "Goodbye darling" says Mum and plants two lipsticky kisses on my cheeks. "We're going to miss you." Not really I think, but I play along willingly. "Bye Mum, bye Dad." I give each of them one last hug before following the witch, who is tapping her foot.

As we stride through the station, me pushing the trolley with my trunk on it, I take one look back. They are still waving and it looks like they are crying. Maybe they will miss me….

"Now Hermione, I understand, you've only been in the magical world a handful of times" says my escort, her voice sharp and impatient.

Once I think to myself, just once.

"I've been instructed to give you this book" she hands me a thin volume entitled _A Muggleborns Guide to Starting Hogwarts. _I smile a little, the whole situation is bizarre, I don't have time to even glance properly at the book and she's talking again.

"To get to platform 9 ¾ you have to walk through this barrier." She stops and gestures to a solid barrier between platforms 9 and 10.

"Through the barrier?" I repeat doubtful.

"Yes, you heard me, now off you trot, I have 20 other muggleborns to meet."

I cautiously move toward the barrier, barely edging my trolley a centimeter at a time.

"Come on, we haven't got all day…" the witch calls and her sharp voice startles me into a run. I keep going, sure I'm going to crash but no, I sink through the barrier like an arrow through butter. Easy, I think to myself.

The train itself is gorgeous, a beautiful glossy red color, thick white clouds of white steam puff from a black chimney. Everyone seems to be boarding right away, so I copy them. My trunk is taken by a uniformed conductor and I nod thanks to him. The crowds on the platform are unbelievable and making a tremendous amount of noise. Kids are hanging out of an open window waving to their parents. I'm awed by the lush decoration inside and so busy gawking around that I almost crash into the dark haired boy, who is desperately scrabbling on the ground for something.

"Oh s…s…sorry" he splutters, "Have you seen my toad, Travers?"

"Excuse me?"

"My toad…h…have you seen my toad?"

"Your toad?"

"Yes" he says patiently, "My nan's gonna kill me if I lose him."

"No." I say carefully, he immediately looks crestfallen. "I'll help you look though. My name's Hermione Granger." I hold out my hand.

"N…Neville Longbottom." He says stammering as he shakes my hand. I flash him a smile and he smiles cautiously back.

"I'll check this compartment shall I?"

"Yeah" he nods earnestly. "I'll check over here…"

I slide open the door, not bothering to knock, not many of the compartments are occupied yet. But this one is. A nervous looking boy with terribly messy black hair and round-framed glasses smiles at me as I come in. I don't even give him a second glance. It's the other boy. It's Rowan, same red hair cut into a neat fringe, same mischievous smile, same freckly skin. I almost call out to him, ask him where's he's been all these months. But no… this boy has clear blue eyes, the bluest eyes I've ever seen, looking me up and down. Rowan had brown eyes. My heart sinks with disappointment, even though I know Rowan is dead. "Have you seen a toad?" I blurt, just as awkward as Longbottom had been.

"No we haven't" says the Rowan look alike rudely. I want to sink into the ground.

"It's just a boy over there has lost one…anyway I'm Hermione…Hermione Granger." I say. They don't reply, they just stare blankly up at me with vacant expressions that are almost identical. I stare at Blue-Eyes again. No, definitely not Rowan, he has a longer nose, a nose with dirt on it. "You've got dirt on your nose." I say before sliding the door closed again.

I continue my search for the toad until I find Travers, perched on a table, his chest rising in a large bubble, making little croaking noises. "Come here you." I whisper and grab the toad.

Neville's face lights up when he sees him, a smile that's like a new dawn. We sit together in a compartment, on the train, not talking much, I don't want to talk anyway.

The train zooms me to the castle. The castle that means new beginning, new start, new day. I smile to myself. "I'm ok, we're ok." I whisper, only Travers to hear me, Neville's asleep, snoring loudly. Hope is a good feeling.

**A/N - Thanks for reading this, please leave a review! Hope you liked the ending! Follow me if you want to read my next story, the start of which should be up in June. It's Romione, set after the Battle. It's going to be really cute, she's going to teach him to ride a bicycle. **


	16. This is not Chapter 16

Hey thanks to Baby Fawn for you review, made me so happy! Also thanks to all that followed. Just to let you know I won't be writing a sequel to Twins. Unless someone has a really good idea for it that they'd like to post in the reviews, just don't PM me I have it disabled. My fic will be Ron/Hermione… I don't know what it will be called yet but will post to this when I figure out.


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